Fire
by Your Faithful Servant
Summary: Dick Grayson was never adopted by Bruce Wayne, and never became a hero. Somehow this unknown Gotham thief ends up falling for Red Hood, anyway. Unfortunately, romance is never easy. [AU JayDick, rated T for language]
1. Prologue

The moment he watched his parents fall to their deaths at the tender age of nine his whole world shattered.

As he wound up raising himself as he bounced from foster home to foster home, those broken pieces dug into his soul, and by sixteen he'd already divulged in petty, and then grand, thievery. Four years later, he'd gotten pretty damn good at it, and had succeeded in laying low enough the authorities didn't even know he existed. They always chalked it up to Catwoman or another thief. But his success was always because of one rule- don't get involved with the supervillains. Not when it was so dangerous; he didn't want to get on the Bat's hit list.

Sure, he wasn't a teenager anymore, but a lustful kiss never tasted so sweet when it was… forbidden.

It wasn't like the Red Hood was the worst villain. He wasn't even a villain, really. He did things for good reasons, even if it wasn't the way the Bat liked. He wasn't really a hero, either, but… no one could say he didn't get things done. It was just flirting at first- once in awhile when Dick was in the area, but… well, he wasn't going to complain about where it ended up.

Plus, even without his face visible, the man was damn attractive.

 _("Really, some nameless thief? Thought I'd catch something a little bigger my first night in Gotham."_

 _Dick flashed a grin, all teeth. "I'm flattered. After all, no one ever knows the name of a thief who never gets caught. And I gotta pay the bills somehow."_

 _"Aren't there more legal ways for that?" Amusement dripped from his tone, surprisingly._

 _"Sure. But they're all boring. As long as you don't attract bats, there isn't ever a problem."_

 _"Well, you got the right mindset, Pretty Boy.")_

Dick was used to being attracted to people. He wasn't gay, but he wasn't straight either. When people were attractive, they just were. Gender had never mattered. He'd hooked up with men and women alike, indiscriminately- though relationships were fairly rare. Blame it on his circus blood, maybe, but he didn't like being tied down. It was easy to not get attached, to just do whatever he wanted, whoever he wanted that wanted him back. So this thing with Jason was just sex. They both knew it. A one hit thing and they were done.

 _("You always make breakfast for your one night stands, Pretty Boy?"_

 _"Only when they've got a six pack… and only when I want an encore.")_

But already he could tell this was different. Even his relationship with that arsonist hadn't been full of so much… _fire_ . At first, things had gone as intended. Just like any other one of his flings. Flirting, flirting and sex and then nothing but a cold bed. It was surprising how much he'd all of a sudden missed the heat. It scared him, but… he couldn't stop.

They both started lingering, thin-veiled excuses to stay a little longer, just a little longer to keep warm. Before long, even in the sun's morning warmth, their fingertips brushed and intertwined, and the need for Jason was more than something physical could fill. He hadn't needed someone in years, since his parents' death, and he had prided himself on that. However, time had worn away the edges of their fast and lustful affair, and revealed a soft, gentle need for romance. Love, maybe, though he was hesitant to call it that at first.

( _" Careful," Dick had purred. "Don't forget I am a thief. I could steal your heart if I wanted."_

 _"Like hell," Jason had growled back. "You can't take anything I don't let you take.")_

But yet, they both denied (or at least Dick did) that anything had changed at all. Been hurt too much, lost everything too many times. Something as sweet as what was blossoming between them felt too good to be real, the truth. His world had been dyed black and red so long that he'd almost forgotten any other colors existed. But ever so slowly in butterfly kisses and gentle fingers blues and greens and yellows painted themselves over the bleakness, and he hadn't even noticed under his closed eyelids. Eyes he'd opened to see him, and it wasn't just about having the forbidden fruit anymore.

He didn't have a choice in the matter. No one ever does, in love.

Maybe the 'I want more' conversation should have been saved for the morning after another passionate night, or a private moment but instead he's covered in Jason's blood and wide eyed it just slips out, and lucky Jason was wearing the domino mask because his pale helmet-less face smiles. It was then Dick tells him he better not die because he has a promise to keep now.

Their next kiss is void of passion and is all desperation, desperation and hope that maybe they'll get to keep it.

 _Please,_ Dick begs. _Please, let me keep one good thing._

Before this, he'd been drowning, drowning in depression and fear and guilt until Jason's hand reached out and pulls him out of the water. He can't lose his lifeline, not again, please-

Dick takes him home, despite Jason's arguments that he's fine. He knows death, in the intimate way of a friend or almost lover, in a way only an orphan would know. The intimacy of watching the life drain out of a final breath was not easily forgotten, and right now he would not let it happen again.

 _Please let me help you, please._

 _Okay, fine,_ Jason says, and Dick just smiles and smiles because something has shifted irreversibly but it's freedom and happiness and that fire, that fire overtakes everything. But somehow they're never burned.

 _("You sure I'm what you want?" Jason jokes, but there's something serious in his eyes, something hidden._

 _"No one else could keep up with me." He smiles, and somehow he's done something right because Jason returns it._

 _"You're really something, you know that, Pretty Boy?" Jason knew his name now, but it was just like back then. Before they knew. A mimic from the past_

 _"You're something yourself, Red Hood," he replies, laughing as his fingers go to Jason's, his smile widening as heat shoots up his fingers. "You're a_ _wild fire."_

 _"No," Jason grins. "We are.")_


	2. Plain Sight Part I

They've been fucking for three weeks when it happens.

He's admittedly way too excited when Jason drops by his apartment for a visit. Jason's a good fuck, that's for sure, but… There was something different about him. Different than any other of his toys. But then again, the man was hot as hell, probably one of Dick's most attractive partners. That had to be it. His bruised face is all smiles when the other quietly slips in through the window.

Jason yawned and dropped a bag (no doubt filled with guns and ammunition) on the floor, followed by the Hood. No doubt he was back from patrolling, his movements heavy, though he hadn't found much trouble if the lack of bloodstains were anything to go by. But as always, he was beautiful, even with the bags under his eyes and his hair slightly damp with sweat. He grinned slightly on seeing Dick, but then froze, a sudden frown overtaking his features.

(He didn't know why, but he hated that expression on Jason's face.)

Dick strided over to the taller and wrapped his dark arms around his neck, fingers entangling into dark strands as he leaned up. He might as well change it the best way he knew how.

"Hey, hey, you aren't jealous are you?" Dick murmurs against his lips with a slight smirk. "If it makes you feel better, you're my only sexual escapade at the moment." Jealousy is something he understands well, has seen often in this possessive game of cat and mouse. In the heat of the moment he can feel it in his bones, that need when their lips clash so desperately and he wants this to be his alone, selfishly wants no one else to know Jason the way he so intimately does.

(But he's not delusional enough to think that he was the man's only. He's played the game long enough to know the rules.)

Instead of accepting his advances like usual, Jason gently pushed him away, brow furrowed. Annoyance rose in his chest at the action. He's almost angry then, because what the hell? If he didn't want sex, why was he here-

"Where'd you get those bruises?" At the other's sudden words, his train of thought is completely derailed. It gets so much worse when Jason moves to actually touch his face. Dick freezes at how soft the fingers on his swollen skin are, freezes because he's not quite sure how to deal with such a caring action. Freezes because he's trying so hard not to read into the obvious rage in Jason's tone. But after a moment Dick huffs in disbelief and the spell is broken as he steps back.

"What, _that's_ your problem?" He almost wants to laugh. The next words come out slow and mocking, really more than the words warranted but whatever. "Listen, I live in the bad part of Gotham, Todd. I try my best to state outta trouble but shit happens. It's true that I could probably beat the shit out of those stupid thugs, but I do that, and suddenly I have a price on my head. I keep my head down, take the punches like a big boy, and no one bothers me. If you don't like damaged goods, then don't look in the clearance aisle."

(It's not like he really cares.)

"Dick. That's bullsh-"

"Don't." He almost hates how icy his voice sounds, and his fingers go to push up on his own dyed blue tips in frustration. His tongue piercing clinked between his teeth as his jaw clenched. For someone who liked to lay low, he was rather flashy- but that was the point. Individual enough to seem like he isn't hiding- but also smart enough to take the punches when necessary.

Something _Red Hood_ didn't seem to understand.

"Look, if you want me to go, I'll go, but don't act like I'm an asshole for caring! Jesus, you make this hard."

Some part of him knew that _yes_ , he was being frustrating, and it was stupid he was reacting so childishly, but he wasn't the only one being rude. Somehow that was enough of an excuse for his behavior to continue it.

(He wasn't dumb. He wasn't going to fall for that like some love struck teenager)

He huffed in disbelief. " _Sure_ , that's the reason. Stop trying to bullshit me. I'm not exactly the kinda person people get all lovey-dovey with. I'm the mistake people make at three in the morning at bars! A fling a wife has because she's sick of sleeping with the same boring asshole for ten years! Not someone's cute, sweet little boyfriend that they'd die for. That's not me, and if that's what you want you came to the wrong apartment. Try one of those stupid dating sites if you want someone to protect from the monsters under the bed." Really, he's half expecting Jason to hit him. God knew how many times his mouth had gotten him hurt, and the anti-hero wasn't exactly known for his calm temperament.

But instead Jason's face just crumbles in something (Anger? Annoyance? Frustration?) and so suddenly Dick's mouth is dry. _This is what you wanted, right?_ Some part of him hysterically giggles. _To push him away. You should be happy it worked._

"You're an ass."

But he isn't happy, isn't at all as Jason storms off, isn't at all as he's left alone again.

"Good job, Grayson," he murmurs to himself. _It's better this way_ , he tells himself. It's better he's alone. _Besides, it's not like he really cares about you._

His fingers ghosted over the faded cigarette burns on his arms. No one truly cares about people like him. Everyone always had motives; everyone always wanted something. It was a hard lesson he'd learned at nine years old from his various foster parents, and one he would never forget.

 _You're better off alone._


	3. Plain Sight Part 2

"I'm sorry."

It's been a week since their fight and honestly the last thing Dick expected was to come home to Jason sitting there calmly in his apartment, but there he is anyway.

(After what Dick had said, why the hell would he want to come back? Especially to say _that_.)

There are dark smudges under his eyes and his hair is disheveled, and honestly this is the most tired and worn out he'd ever seen Jason. He wasn't even that bad when Dick first met him, and anyone could have been able to tell how stressed and angry he'd been. But right now… he didn't seem to be either of those things. Just… sad.

"Jesus, you look like shit." Dick wasn't really one to dance around a subject.

Jason just chucked darkly. "You're not exactly model material at the moment either."

He was right. The dark bruises on his face had faded to a sickly yellow, and if he was being honest Dick hadn't been sleeping well either, and he hadn't been in the mood to go steal something so he was out of money for food. Thin, bruised, and exhausted didn't create the best look.

It didn't help that he wasn't used to feeling guilty, because he usually did whatever he wanted; whatever felt right. Sometimes it was stealing an expensive bracelet from the rich woman who shut down the homeless shelter because it was 'ugly', Sometimes it was giving his rent money to the struggling single father across the hall who was taking care of four kids all by himself. He didn't regret things because he never did anything he didn't want to do.

But he did, this time.

Even if the things he'd said were true, even if it was likely that Jason didn't think of him as anything other than a fuck buddy, he'd said those things in fear. In terror, because he knew Jason was getting far too close. Because Dick was caring about him, and every time that happened he ended up bleeding in the corner. So he'd lashed out first, spilled the first blood in mocking tones and anger, not even given Jason a chance to understand. It wasn't his fault.

Jason should hate him. He had every right to.

"Listen," Jason sighed, eyes wandering away from Dick as he spoke. "...I shouldn't have left. Shouldn't have lost my temper either."

Dick froze. _What_?

"I…" He took a deep breath before continuing. "I understand what it's like to feel like you're all alone and that no one cares, and no one ever will. I used to live on the streets. I'm not going to pretend I know what you've been through because I don't know."

Out of politeness and maybe a little bit of Dick pretended he didn't see those eyes linger on the scars on his arms.

"But…" Jason tensed. "No more of this shit, okay? You sure as hell don't need to get beat up to lay low. Jesus, Dick, you're going to get yourself fucking killed. You're not someone's fucking punching bag..." His eyes drifted away. Hesitation.

"Look, I got an idea. I say you're mine. They won't touch you then, and I won't hesitate to show them why they shouldn't if they do. You still get to steal shit and no one will know what you're capable of, but now you don't get hurt for no fucking reason… So just say yes before I change my mind."

Somehow, Dick got the feeling that it was more than just protection. Deep down, they both knew what Jason was really asking.

Dick wanted nothing more to say no. He'd been asked by more than one sugar daddy or for something more serious, and he'd always backed out. They'd been nothing more than playthings really, and once they'd become boring or wanted more than he could give, he moved on. It was that simple. As people, they were never interesting, and he was always clear about his intentions. It was always their fault for not understanding. He should say no. Jason disapproved of his methods and was trying to fix it, and that was something he didn't like.

Yet...

"Are you really asking to protect me, or do you want to date me?" Dick asked with a grin. "Because either way the answer is yes."

To become a good thief, it was essential to be able to weigh the risks and rewards, unobjectively. To understand your own weakness and strengths, to know what you could get away with. Somewhere between watching his parents die and his argument with Jason, trusting people had become a risk he was unable to take. Somehow, maybe he'd even forgotten what love and trust felt like.

But from the very beginning Jason was different.

His smile, his real smile, was so soft and kind. His eyes were two pools of emotion and probably a reason why he wore the Hood; he could never hide what he was really feeling when they were visible. He was covered in scars small and large, but they never seemed to distract from his appearance. Most of all he was strong, strong and somehow kind through all the hardship he must have been through, and more determined than anyone Dick had ever met. He was angry, yes, almost permanently, but he didn't wallow in it. No, he acted. He cared, though he didn't say it, only offered his help. Somehow, that was exactly what Dick wanted. Jason was what Dick wanted.

The needy, selfish way their lips crash together makes it all worth it. It's not love yet, not really. But it doesn't seem to matter.

"I was half expecting you to say no," Jason murmurs against his lips when they finally break for air. "...I was almost completely expecting you to say no."

"Me too," Dick admits. "With anyone else, I would have. But you're different, Jason Todd. You always have been."

"So are you, Dick Grayson." That smile Dick loves so much stretches across his face, and before he can stop himself he's kissing him desperately all over again.

For the first time in a long time, they were both happy.


End file.
